Blood on Your Suit
by StBridget
Summary: Leave it to Steve to ruin their anniversary plans. Danny's just going to have to switch to Plan B. McDanno.


**Hawaii Five-0 is property of CBS and its creators.  
**

 **A/N: This is based on a prompt, which is the first text exchange. It just sounded so Steve and Danny I couldn't resist. This is one part crack, one part awwww, and all parts fun, I hope. :)**

Steve had been in a meeting all day, and Danny was beginning to fret. They had dinner reservations for their anniversary, but it was starting to look like Steve wouldn't finish in time. Danny decided to text him.

 _How's the meeting?_ He wrote.

Steve's response came almost immediately, which either meant he was finished, or, more likely, bored to tears and paying more attention to his phone than the meeting.

 _I want to stab everyone._

Danny couldn't help grinning. Typical Steve. _Don't get blood on your suit. We have dinner reservations at seven._

 _Love you for enabling me_.

 _Love you, too_. Normally, Danny wouldn't encourage Steve, but Danny knew Steve wouldn't _really_ stab anyone. He thought. Well, he hoped.

Danny decided to finish getting ready since they probably wouldn't have a lot of time after Steve got home. That was why Steve was wearing his suit to the meeting. That, and he was meeting with the budget guys who wanted to slash Five-0's budget, and the Governor had told—well, ordered—Steve to make a good impression and be on his best behavior. That almost certainly didn't include stabbing everyone, but with Steve, you took the small victories.

Danny had just finished tying his tie when he phone buzzed again. He picked it up. _We have a problem,_ it read.

Danny's heart sank. Maybe Steve really had stabbed everyone. More likely, he wasn't going to be done in time. Well, Danny hoped that was more likely. With Steve, you never knew. _Let me guess,_ he wrote, _you're not going to be done in time_.

 _No, the meeting's over_. Steve wrote back.

 _But..._ Danny prompted.

 _I got blood on my suit._

Steve couldn't be serious. _You're joking, right?_

 _Sorry, no_. Steve wrote.

Danny was furious. _You weren't actually supposed to stab anyone!_

 _I didn't._

 _Then how did you get blood on your suit?_

 _I punched a guy._

 _You can't go punching people just because they won't give you money!_

 _I didn't. I punched a guy because he said Five-0 shouldn't be run by a couple of fags._

Danny had to admit Steve was justified. _I would have punched him, too_.

 _Does that mean you're not mad?_ Steve asked.

 _No, I'm furious,_ Danny replied. _But I understand_.

 _I guess this means we'll miss our reservations, huh?_

 _Well, given that's your only suit, yeah, I'd say so_. Even in a text, Danny couldn't help the snark.

Danny could just see Steve's sheepish look. _Sorry. Maybe we can reschedule_.

 _I doubt it. It took months to get those reservations._ That wasn't the only reason Danny was disappointed. He'd had big plans for tonight.

 _Sorry. I'll make it up to you_.

 _Steve, there's no way you can make it up to me_. Danny didn't mean to make Steve feel bad—well, okay, he did, but he knew he was just being petty—but this ruined _everything_. Sure, Danny could change his plans, but it just wouldn't be the same.

 _Sorry_. Steve said again.

Danny sighed. _I won't say it's okay, but I'll deal. We can order pizza and crack open a couple of beers_.

 _I know it's not what you wanted._

 _No, but we'll make do._

Danny changed out of his suit and into sweats and an old t-shirt. If he wasn't going to get a fancy dinner, he might as well be comfortable. He was on the couch, pizza ordered, beer already in hand when Steve got home.

Danny was appalled at Steve's appearance. It wasn't just a spot of blood—it was a whole spray on the lapel of his jacket and his white shirt. Danny couldn't help but be impressed. "That must have been some punch."

"Broke his nose," Steve said, proudly.

Danny sighed. He knew he should yell at Steve, but he really didn't have the heart. It's not like it would do any good, and the guy did deserve it. "You really shouldn't be proud of it. Punching out the people who hold the purse strings isn't good public relations, even if they are homophobic assholes."

The look of pride vanished to be replaced by an appropriately chastised expression. "I know. It just made me so mad."

Danny sighed again. "Let's see what we can do to get the blood out."

Steve followed Danny into the bathroom and removed his jacket. Danny examined the jacket. That would have to be dealt with by the cleaners, but, fortunately, theirs was an expert at getting bloodstains out—and just what did that say about their lives? The shirt, though, would have to be soaked, and soon. "Shirt off," he instructed Steve.

Steve complied. Even through his annoyance, Danny took a moment to admire Steve's muscled chest and firm abs. God, he loved this man. He may be a reckless Neanderthal, but he was Danny's reckless Neanderthal, and, while he'd never admit it to Steve, Danny loved him for his zeal, his loyalty, and his desire to punch out anyone who belittled something he held dear. Danny just wished he hadn't done it in his only suit. "Go change while I soak this," Danny said.

Steve obeyed, and Danny ran cold water over the shirt, scrubbing it with soap until he had the worst out. Then he filled up the sink and left the shirt to soak. Hopefully, it could be salvaged.

The doorbell rang just as Danny finished, and he went to answer it. It was the pizza. Perfect timing. Danny paid and carried into the living room as Steve came downstairs, pulling on a t-shirt as he went.

"Grab some plates," Danny said. Steve did, and they dished up the pizza.

"You even got pineapple on mine," Steve said, touched.

"It is our anniversary," Danny said. "I figured you deserved something nice, even if you did ruin our plans."

"Are you ever going to let that go? I said I was sorry."

"I know. And I know I'm being petty," Danny said. "It's just, it wasn't just about our anniversary. I had something I wanted to do."

"What was that?"

Danny debated for a moment. It wasn't what he'd had planned, but he'd slipped the box into the pocket of his sweats just in case. He pulled it out of his pocket, opened it, and knelt awkwardly on one knee in front of the sofa. "Steve McGarrett, will you marry me?"

"That's not very romantic," Steve teased.

"Well, you're the one who went and got blood on his suit so we couldn't go out," Danny groused, but there was no longer any heat to his words. "It was supposed to be in a nice restaurant over a candlelit dinner, not pizza and beer in front of the tv."

"Danny," Steve said, seriously, "it doesn't matter where it is. It's romantic because it's you."

"Does that mean you'll marry me?" Danny was pretty sure it did, but this wasn't something he was going to just be "pretty sure" about.

Steve grinned. "Yes, of course I'll marry you." He pulled Danny up and into a kiss. Long and slow and deep. The grin turned to a smirk when they pulled apart. "Maybe I should punch people out more often."

"Don't you dare," Danny told him.


End file.
